


Facing Light in the Flow

by engagemythrusters



Series: Did You Ever Dream [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: COE Fix-it, Domestic, F/M, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28603800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engagemythrusters/pseuds/engagemythrusters
Summary: A slice of a life nobody had dreamt they would ever have.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Did You Ever Dream [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116941
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	Facing Light in the Flow

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Daniela!!

Sometimes, when Gwen yelled at her daughter, she wasn’t sure whether to call out “Anwen Williams!” or “Anwen Pallister!” Though perhaps it was actually “Anwen Cooper-Williams-Jones-Harkness!” She had lost track of who Anwen was supposed to be.

Right now, Gwen settled on just plain “Anwen,” as the extent of her irritation had yet to be explored. If needs must, she would add on from there.

“Anwen?” she called.

“Not here, love,” Rhys said from the sofa. He glanced up from the telly. “Need something?”

“Someone hasn’t done her maths,” Gwen sighed.

“Ah,” he said, then shrugged. “Well, it’s only maths. Who needs maths these days? Everybody’s got calculators on their mobiles.”

“She’s seven,” she said. “She’s not getting a mobile. She needs to learn her maths.”

“If you say so.” But his smile told her he was only egging her on.

She rolled her eyes and leant over the sofa, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “How’s the foot?”

With a sigh, he said, “Still sore. Took the ice off for a bit. No change.”

“Mmm,” she said, frowning to herself.

“Not good, eh?” He chuckled. “Right, well. Try out in the garden. I think she was out with Jack and Ianto.”

“If she’s gotten her trousers all muddy again…”

“I don’t think Ianto would let her.”

“You’d be surprised what slips past him when it isn’t his day to do the laundry,” she muttered darkly.

Leaving it at that, she left him to watch his show in peace, making her way to the garden.

Sure enough, the rogue child was outside, perched atop of Jack’s shoulders, grabbing branches of the cherry tree to stick her nose inside the blossoms. Ianto sat below on a red gingham blanket and watched with an amused expression. He had a few petals stuck in his hair, vivid pink contrasting sharply against the dark brown. Jack had his own matching flower tucked behind his ear, though Gwen suspected that, unlike Ianto’s accessories, his was intentional.

“Oi!” Gwen called.

The three of them turned to look at her, heads whipping around in one swift, synchronous movement. Gwen, surprised by the sudden attention, clung onto it for a little longer, finishing the walk over to the trio.

“School work,” Gwen said as she reached them.

“Awww,” Anwen whined. “Do I have to?”

“Absolutely. And I want them done before your Aunt Martha gets here.”

“Aunt Martha’s coming?” Anwen asked with a gasp. Down below, Ianto looked similarly surprised.

“Yes, so you better get in and finish up your maths,” Gwen said. “I don’t want you to have to help you when I’m trying to talk to Aunt Martha again.”

“Can’t I just do them later?”

“No,” Gwen said.

“Come on, kid,” Jack said cheerily. “Mum says maths now.”

Anwen hmphed and folded her arms, but Jack reached up over his head and hoisted her up and off of him. He made an exaggerated groan as he lifted her over himself and set her down, and she couldn’t help but giggle through the grumpy façade. Gwen caught Ianto’s eye, and he sent her an entertained raise of his eyebrow.

“Wash your hands!” Gwen called after Anwen as the girl instantly darted back towards the house.

“I know!”

“With soap!”

“I knooow!”

The door banged shut after Anwen. Gwen shook her head, wondering to herself how many more times she could tell that child not to slam that door before it stuck with her. She turned back to Jack and Ianto, about to ask them the same thing, but ultimately decided to keep the comment to herself as she watched Jack aid Ianto to his feet. She stepped in to help Jack fold up the blanket, which he then slung over his shoulder.

“Right,” Jack said. “Someone should make sure she actually gets three from seven minus four.”

“Good luck with that,” Gwen said. “She loathes subtraction.”

“Not when you use chocolate!”

She groaned, “Don’t, you’ll spoil her rotten.”

“What are uncles for?” Jack asked with a grin.

He planted a kiss on Ianto’s lips and one on Gwen’s forehead, then took after Anwen.

“Unbelievable,” Gwen said.

“Well, it’ll make one thing easier in the future,” Ianto mused.

Gwen sent him a puzzled look.

“If Anwen ever asks why you and I have greyed, and not Jack,” Ianto said, “you just tell her it’s because he gave us half of the grey hairs.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she offered him her arm. He took it, and they walked slowly back to the house themselves.

“So, Martha’s coming?” he asked.

“Should be here in about half an hour.”

“I thought she wasn’t due until next Friday.”

“Rhys’s foot is still swollen,” she explained, “so she’s coming over to check on it. She’ll get you in, too.”

“Mickey tagging along?”

“Not sure,” she said.

“Hm,” he said, and nothing more.

Inside the house again, Gwen and Ianto returned to the sofa. Rhys looked over at him as he sat down.

“Alright, mate?”

“Could ask you the same,” Ianto said, nodding to Rhys’s foot. “That still looks—”

“—hideous?” Rhys interjected. “Grotesque? Like a freak of nature?”

“I was going to say painful, but those work, too.”

Rhys reached over and patted Ianto’s shoulder amicably.

“I’m going to go stop Jack from overstuffing our daughter,” Gwen said. “You two have fun.”

“Is he feeding her chocolates again?” Rhys asked.

“Oh, so you know about this, too.” She folded her arms. “And you never tried stopping him?”

“Why not? It works!”

She glanced over to Ianto, who merely shrugged. She should’ve known better—this was the man who regularly fed their pterodactyl (pteranodon, Ianto always said Myfanwy had been a pteranodon) whole bars of dark chocolate when she had been, verbatim, “a good pterosaur.”

“Men,” she scoffed, then went off to supervise Jack and Anwen.

Thankfully, Anwen was not stuffing her gob with chocolate. Jack didn’t even have a single sweet near him. However, the two of them were giggling away and the worksheet was discarded to the side.

“Maths,” Gwen said, sliding the sheet between them.

“We’re doing them!” Anwen protested.

“Oh, really? I don’t see any answers…”

“Because I did them with Uncle Jack’s fingers,” she said.

Sulking, she picked up her pencil and began scratching the answers down on the paper. Gwen shot a questioning look at Jack, who simply grinned and shrugged in return.

“Boeshane method,” he said. “Figured you wouldn’t be opposed.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve cramming her full of sweets,” Gwen said, “I’d never be opposed.”

“Never?” Jack teased.

She pointed a warning finger at him. “Careful, Harkness.”

But she sat down next to the two of them and watched as Anwen did subtraction using Jack’s fingers. It was a strange way to approach it, she thought, as it wasn’t the method she had assumed it would be. It involved both the fingers and the spaces between the fingers, and it didn’t make a lick of sense to her. Anwen seemed to have a perfect grasp on the concept, though. Gwen decided then and there that she was passing the maths torch over to Jack from here on out.

“Mum,” Anwen said as she scribbled in the last answer.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Uncle Jack said I could have some chocolate if I finished.”

Gwen closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. “Did he.”

“Yes. So, can I have some?”

She opened her eyes again and glared at the offending man. Then she looked to Anwen. “One piece. _One_.”

“But Uncle Jack always gives me one for each problem!”

“Uncle Jack is no longer allowed to give you chocolate,” she said.

“Hey,” Jack protested. Anwen pouted.

“You only have yourself to blame.”

Gwen supervised Anwen’s chocolate intake, making sure neither Jack nor Anwen stole more than one piece. Well, Jack popped some in his mouth before Gwen could slap his hand away, but she wasn’t his mother. She couldn’t yell at him for it. She could glare frostily at him when he attempted to snatch more, though.

Martha showed up just on time, and Anwen zoomed to the door to let her in. Gwen debated chiding the girl, because, due to the moderately secretive nature of their stay in this house, Anwen wasn’t allowed to answer the door. But Martha was no stranger, so Gwen let this slide.

“Hello!” Martha said the moment she was inside. She crouched down and hugged Anwen. “Oh, you’re getting bigger!”

“I lost another tooth!”

“Oh, really? Let me see!”

Anwen grinned broadly on command, displaying the small gap in her upper line of teeth. Martha praised her, then ruffled her hair.

“Hello, you,” she said to Jack next.

Jack swept her into a large hug. “The nightingale herself, Martha Jones.”

“Tease,” she said as he sat her back down. She then grinned at Gwen, and the two embraced. “It’s good to see you!”

“You, too,” Gwen said. “You look good!”

And so Martha did. Her braided hair had been pulled up into an elegant knot, and her red turtleneck and golden earrings accentuated her jawline perfectly. Life seemed to be treating her well, and for that, Gwen was pleased.

“Is that Martha?” Rhys called from the living room.

“Hello, Rhys!” Martha returned. She grabbed her medical kit and made her way into the house, towards the living room. Gwen, Jack, and Anwen followed after her.

When they arrived, they found Ianto getting up from the sofa as Rhys grinned broadly up at Martha.

“Good morning,” Ianto said warmly.

“Oh, don’t get up for me!” she said. But she kissed his cheek anyway. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Ianto said.

“Well, I’ll be the judge of that,” she teased, then turned to Rhys. “But first, Mister Williams… how’s the foot?”

“Agony,” Rhys said, grin still plastered on his face. “No Mickey today?”

“He’s helping our neighbour catch… well, frogs,” Martha said.

“Frogs?” Gwen asked, puzzled.

“Yes, well, they’re…” She gave a pointed look at Anwen. “You know. _Frogs_.”

“Aaah,” said Gwen knowingly. Alien frogs, then. She vaguely wondered what those would look like.

“They’ve gotten into her bathtub,” Martha said. “Down the drain. Mickey’s helping her get them out.”

“Good luck to them,” Jack said. “I’ve dealt with _‘frogs’_ before. Tricky little—”

“Anyway,” Gwen interrupted, sending him a disapproving glower.

Jack shrugged, then hoisted Anwen up onto his hip. She was almost far too big for that, but Jack was under the impression children should be carried at all times. Gwen wondered if all of Boeshane’s culture was based around spoiling children rotten, or if that was just Jack.

“Would you like some coffee?” Ianto asked Martha in the silence.

“If you’re up for it, my usual, please,” she said.

“I’m always up for it.”

Jack let out a laugh. Ianto rolled his eyes, moving to the kitchen. Jack, with Anwen still on his hip, trailed behind. Ianto didn’t protest this—all for the better. “No Ianto Joneses alone in the kitchen” had been a ground rule of the house for the past three years. He still had that burn scar on his arm from that time he had collapsed.

“Right,” Martha said, drawing Gwen from her memories. “Let’s take a look at that foot, shall we?”

“Be my guest,” Rhys said.

Martha knelt down on the floor by the sofa, beginning to rummage through her medical kit. Gwen found herself moving behind Rhys, resting her arms on his shoulders. He tilted his head up at her, grinning fondly.

Oh, Gwen loved this man and his lovely smiles. She kissed him gently and chastely, then pulled away and patted his shoulder.

“So, Doctor Jones,” Gwen asked, “will he live?”

“Oh, it’s too soon to tell,” Martha replied, putting on a mock-sincere front.

“Will he need an amputation?” Jack asked.

Gwen looked up and saw him enter the room. Anwen trailed in behind him, a single mug clutched between her small hands.

“Oh, thank you,” Martha said when Anwen passed her the mug. “But if this foot gets amputated, it will certainly not be by my hands.”

“What’s amputation?” Anwen asked curiously.

“It’s when you chop something off,” Jack said.

He made a quick slicing motion to his left wrist. Anwen wrinkled up her nose as Gwen tutted beratingly at him.

“What’s getting amputated?” Ianto asked as he shambled into the room.

“Nothing is getting amputated,” Rhys said. “You lot are a bunch of nutters.”

“Yes, but we’re _your_ nutters,” Gwen said, ruffling his hair.

“Speak for yourself,” Ianto mumbled.

He slowly sank down into the sofa. Jack, who had come to stand beside Gwen, reached a hand down and placed it softly on his shoulder.

Gwen thought it was a bit like sitting to watch a documentary, the way they all had gathered to observe Martha’s examination of Rhys’s foot. Ianto and Jack seemed mildly interested in Martha and her administrations, while Gwen was just concerned for Rhys and couldn’t bring herself to look away. Anwen, though, was simply fascinated by every single thing Martha did and used. Poor Martha could barely concentrate on her job or coffee between answering questions. Gwen knew the eagerness came from Anwen’s ever-enthusiastic approach to life, but a part of her found herself musing on what sort of medical career Anwen could possibly choose. Didn’t every parent secretly hope that their kid would become a doctor?

Thoughts of a possible Doctor Anwen Williams (Cooper-Williams? Pallister? Certainly not the other abomination of a surname—nobody would take her seriously) lead Gwen down a train of thought about passing on an old lab coat she knew was safely stored away in a locker.

She missed Owen. Right now, so much so that it ached all the way to the tips of her fingers and back again.

Jack, ever so observant to pain, laced the fingers of his free hand into one of hers. She simply held it, letting it ground her. Nothing could take the pain away, she knew that, but she could learn to accept it for what it was and live with it.

“Well,” Martha said eventually. “I’d say it’s just a nasty sprain.”

“Oh, thank god,” Gwen said. Jack squeezed her hand, then let go, moving to rub Ianto’s shoulders.

“Nothing broken,” Martha continued. “Keep taking care of it the way you have been, stay off it as much as possible, and you should be good in a bit.”

“That’s it?” Rhys asked.

“Mostly,” she said. “I’ll write a few things down for you before I go, and I’ll be back to check on it sometime soon to make sure it’s healing the way it should be. And I’m always on call for any emergency.”

“Brilliant,” Rhys groaned as Martha began to tape the foot back up in the compression wrap Gwen had put on this morning. “I’ll be fussed over for ages now.”

“Welcome to my world,” Ianto muttered.

Gwen stretched over to lightly cuff his head.

“Speaking of,” Martha said, turning to him. “Your turn.”

Ianto simply sighed.

This was routine. Not even Anwen was intrigued as they all silently watched Martha take Ianto’s vitals and check his chest. Of course, the twinge of anxiety never left, and Gwen could feel it more so now, pressing up against all the corners of her mind, but she didn’t pay it much heed. No reason to expect anything off anymore.

Soon enough, Martha confirmed as much.

“I think I need to update a few of your prescriptions,” she said as she removed the stethoscope from her ears, “but otherwise, I’m not finding nothing out of the ordinary. Well. Out of your ordinary, anyway.”

Gwen let out a small breath. Okay, maybe she’d been feeling more of that anxiety than she’d been willing to admit, but it was alright now. Martha said so. Minutely shaking her head to herself, she glanced at her daughter, glancing back and forth between her Uncle Ianto and Aunt Martha with a confused expression.

Gwen had long prepared for the day Anwen finally _understood_ something was off with Ianto. They’d approached it a few times already, but those had all been questions Gwen could brush off with “he’s sitting down so much because he’s tired” or “you can only lie down on Dad or Uncle Jack because Uncle Ianto has a weak chest.” But someday Anwen was going to understand that this _came_ from somewhere, much like Rhys’s sprain had come from a stray rubber duck lying on the bathroom tiles. And then…

And then the four adults would have to sit down and figure out exactly what they’re going to say. Because this would keep happening—Anwen would keep discovering things were different about her life. Someday, Anwen would realise that her family has more adults than most. She would realise that most families can go outside their house often and regularly and without restrictions or guidelines. She would realise that one of her uncles didn’t look a day older than when she was born, while the everyone else grew old and grey beside him. She would realise that everyone else had a past, and her family never said a thing about theirs.

Most likely, Anwen would become bitter, realising her life was so screwed up and played with by forces she couldn’t control. Gwen knew that was how she would react, if that was her. And she was a good gauge for Anwen—Jack often called her the little Carbon-Copy Gwen Cooper. Ianto had once tried figuring out exactly what “spatial genetic multiplicity” was, only to get Martha calling the house to berate them for hacking UNIT. Rhys often just said “you’re just like your mother” in varying tones (all completely dependent on the situation). Gwen merely knew exactly how hurt and betrayed Anwen would feel if she found out the wrong way, how angry it would make her feel to be so different, to have no control over everything. And that scared Gwen. She didn’t want her little girl to feel so attacked by the hand she was given.

But, for now, Anwen simply jumped off the sofa to help Martha pack up her medical kit, eager to learn and do more things.

A weight lifted from Gwen’s chest, and she turned to Jack.

“If we have fish three days in a row again…” she warned.

“I can make things other than fish!” he protested.

“Can you?” Ianto asked, looking up.

Exasperated, Jack said, “You know I can.”

“But I want fish!” Anwen said.

Jack grinned at her. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favourite?”

“Anwen, don’t encourage your uncle,” Gwen chided teasingly.

Anwen laughed. Christ, that kid was so easy to please. Gwen loved that about her.

Another part of her began worrying, again, how long that would last; however, Gwen clamped down on that worry before it could go anywhere. For now, she had this moment. She’d gotten so good at living in just the moments over these past few years. Everything was unpredictable, but moments… moments were good. Stable, comfortable, and safe.

“Coffee’s different,” Martha said as she finally got to fully enjoy Ianto’s brew. “New stuff?”

“Evidently,” started Ianto lowly, and Gwen rolled her eyes, already well aware where this was headed. “The brand I get decided to _discontinue_ their best beans.”

“Really?” Martha said, not knowing what she was getting herself into.

Ianto nodded solemnly. “Best brew, and they decided that nobody needed it anymore. How could—"

Tuning out, Gwen caught Jack’s glance. They pulled similar faces of long-suffering understanding. Rhys had become quite the influence on Ianto’s rants (and, though he’d hate to admit it, Jack’s as well). Unanticipated, and yet, completely expected. Now Gwen got to sit back and watch as Rhys and either Jack or Ianto—or both, occasionally—argue about the same goddamn thing. _At_ each other. They would, quite literally, argue the same point at each other. Gwen didn’t see the point of aggressively agreeing like that, but there it was. Something she simply would get used to over time.

Though she did rue the day Jack discovered rugby in full. Two Welshmen yelling at the telly was enough. She didn’t need to add an exuberant space captain to the mix. _Or_ an overeager young girl, now that she thought about it.

Ianto finished off his long-winded rant, which Martha had sat through intently. God, was there nothing that woman couldn’t do? Brilliant, that Martha was.

“Do you want to stay the day?” Gwen asked her. “We could order in.”

“Save ourselves from fish,” Ianto added.

“Oh, why not,” Martha laughed. “If it saves you all from fish…”

Jack folded his arms, a sulky expression crossing his face.

“And I won’t have to pull up any… _frogs_ ,” Martha said. “Which I am perfectly happy to avoid.”

Gwen glanced out the window to the clear blue sky. Jack and Ianto had the right idea earlier; it’d surely be a lovely day to spend outside. The suggestion bounced well off everyone, save Rhys, who complained about needing to stay put. Gwen reminded him that he would rather watch whatever show was on the telly, anyway, and he shut up.

“Aunt Martha!” Anwen exclaimed. “You can come see the tree!”

Martha shot the others a look.

“Cherry tree is blossoming,” Ianto explained, getting to his feet with Jack’s help.

“It’s so pretty!” Anwen said.

“I bet. Why don’t you show me?”

And, with no further prompting, Anwen leapt forward and stole Martha’s hand, dragging her out towards the gardens. Jack and Ianto, holding hands, followed in their own good time, leaving Gwen with Rhys, watching the others go.

“Oh, go on,” Rhys said after they’d gone. “Don’t need to keep me company. I know you don’t like soaps.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” she asked.

“You know me,” he said. “If I need anything, I’ll holler.”

“We’ll certainly hear you,” she joked.

She leant down, kissing him once, twice, thrice, showing him her love in the way she knew best. He grinned sappily at her as she pulled back, then smacked her arse.

“Go on,” he said again.

Rolling her eyes, she made her way after the group.

The four of them had already gathered around the tree as she stepped out. Jack and Ianto leant against each other, Jack gesturing his free hand at the tree ebulliently as Martha and Ianto stared at the tree. Anwen ran excitedly around the base, trying to interject excited remarks between Jack’s commentary.

Gwen smiled, deciding to hang back for a bit.

It struck her as odd, how happy she was, sometimes. By all means, she should be miserable. And yet… she had something so beautiful, so wonderful, that even on stranger days like today, she felt so _happy_. The future might be uncertain and rocky, but she had today. She had this moment.

And, for now, that was all that mattered. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway yeah if you didn't mind this, or if it confused you, maybe go back and read "Would Not Believe the Light Could Ever Go" !!! I just don't have a title for the series yet... whoops.  
> Thanks for reading! Have a nice night!!


End file.
